Before Autism

Before autism.

Before Harbor. Before Sawyer. Before Cooper.

I had a miscarriage.

Jamie and I were newlyweds. We got pregnant the first month we tried.

Which was immediately after we got married.

We saw a heartbeat at 8 weeks.

We told everyone. We announced on Facebook.

We planned. We bought. We prepared.

We were going to be parents.

We talked about the parents we would be. And the child he or she would be.

At 13 weeks there was no heartbeat.

I was devastated. That word actually doesn’t even accurately describe how I felt.

I was heartbroken.

I had no idea that could happen.

I was blissfully unaware that babies could stop growing. That they could be taken from you without you even knowing.

That miscarriage changed me.

I felt lost. I felt like my body had failed me. I felt unsure of myself.

That miscarriage changed my outlook on pregnancy too.

It was no longer magical. The thought of doing it again didn’t sound fun. It wasn’t a fairy tale.

It was something that was unknown.

And on top of all that, miscarriage was common. It wasn’t a huge deal to doctors or other people. It happened all the time.

Although, it didn’t feel like that to me.

I felt ashamed. I had no one to talk too. I felt like one in a million.

When I got pregnant with Cooper a few months later, we didn’t tell anyone. Not until 25 weeks anyways.

I worried my whole pregnancy. Every ultrasound brought fear. My first words were always…’is there a heartbeat?’

What should have been a blissful pregnancy was plagued with worry.

It was the same with Sawyer although not quite as bad. I had Cooper to keep me busy.

But once something goes wrong, it changes you. It makes you cautious. It makes you concerned.

If you’ve never lost a pregnancy you probably don’t understand.

It changes a person.

It makes you nervous.

I feel the same way about autism.

It’s changed me.

I have a newborn. He is six weeks old today.

42 days he has been with us. I struggle to remember life before him.

He is growing, eating, sleeping and pooping. He is doing all the things a newborn should be doing.

He’s developing typically.

I should have no concerns. No worries.

And still, I am nervous.

A type of nervous I never knew even existed before autism.

Before I knew that sometimes you can have a perfect child who doesn’t develop typically.

Before I knew that some little kids never learn to talk. Or play a game. Or make a friend.

Before I knew that some kids never learn to read. Or to do multiplication. Or even go to school.

Before I knew that some kids never throw a ball. Or sing a song. Or ride a bike.

Before I knew that some kids don’t graduate high school. Or move out. Or live on their own.

Before I knew about meltdowns and milestones.

Before I knew that you can do everything right and still have things turn out differently than you expected.

Before I knew that you can spend every single day wondering why. Or how.

Before I knew about autism.

Like my miscarriage, I sometimes feel like I have lost something I never had.

And once again I feel like I have no one to talk too. I feel like my son is one in a million.

Now, as I look at my newborn baby sleeping on my chest, I realize how having an autistic child has changed me.

And not just a little. But significantly.

I think differently about the future. I react differently to certain things around me. I watch him closer than most probably would.

I study him in a way that I wouldn’t have before autism.

I find myself questioning his behaviors.

Is he sleeping enough? Is he too fussy? Is he looking at my face enough? Or grabbing my hand?

If he has a fussy day, I convince myself he’s autistic. If he has a good day, I tell myself he’s fine.

I question my doctor. I question our environment. I question the milestone charts.

Things that a mom without a special needs child wouldn’t think twice about…I think about a hundred times.

I compare Harbor to Cooper. And to Sawyer. Because that is what I know.

I tell myself he is fine. And that I shouldn’t worry.

And I want you to know that most days I can keep the worry shoved way down deep inside of me.

I refuse to jump into the special needs parenting rabbit hole.

I refuse to miss the joy in my perfect newborn and worry over something I can’t control.

But I’d by lying if I said autism hasn’t changed me.

Before autism I was blissfully unaware. I didn’t know differences. I didn’t know about advocating. I didn’t know about the unique grief of special needs parenting. I didn’t know about this secret, beautiful, frustrating, amazing world.

And the most important one…

Before autism I did not know how much I could truly love someone. How I could be someone’s person.

And for that I am truly, truly blessed.

Written by, Kate

Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our newsletter.